Just a Slave
by Tusofsky
Summary: Blaine returns home after a weekend with his now ex-boyfriend, left only with his slave, who needs to be 'punished'. One-Shot AU Mature Content


**Authors note - **This story is the same universe as my other fic, Country Slave, and takes place during Chapter 18. Thought I'd throw some smut at you guys since you weren't getting it from Dave and Kurt (yet). And a little insight into Blaine's mind, and what he thinks of his slave, Jeremiah. Hope ya'll like :3

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><p>"May I take your bags to your room and unpack them, Master?" Jeremiah asked as he followed his Master, Blaine Anderson, through the front door of the man's home.<p>

"Yes, Jeremiah. Thank you."

Blaine didn't even look at him.

This was normal. This was completely routine and expected.

Blaine had grown up as part of an upper class, a wealthy, well off family. He went to a private school. Got a brand new car when he turned sixteen. Was given only the best things in life. And with that came the possessions that only the rich of this society could obtain.

Slaves.

It was never something Blaine questioned, though he was well aware as he got older that there were people who did or even fought it tooth an nail, but Blaine didn't see a thing wrong with owning a slave. They were things that were kept in order to serve, clean, cook, and make the lives of People generally just. . . Easier. A better life. And in turn, the owner of said slave would provide the poor creature, who could never fend for itself, food and clothing and shelter. It was service to them both.

Blaine also knew at a young age slaves were below him. They were not People in terms of society. They were at best, pets. At worst, objects. Even as a child he knew he was able to order slaves of the household to do whatever he wanted. Anything at all because he had the right. Even a whim of a child outweighed what a slave thought. Which usually resulted in someone getting in trouble in the Anderson household. At first, it seemed like such an awesome deal because if a vase got knocked over and broken because little child Blaine demanded entertainment, so therefore asked a slave to dance dramatically, the slave would take the blame and Blaine would get off scott free. But Blaine wasn't able to accept that, even in his young age. He'd suddenly feel immensely guilty and speak up on the slaves behalf, saying no, he told the slave to do it, it was his fault. Please don't be so hard on him or her. Or. . . 'it' depending on the mood his parents were in, specifically his father.

Blaine's dad wasn't overly fond of slaves. They were _things_ to him. Nothing else. They didn't get affection from him beyond a word or two of praise, if the slave was lucky. His mother however treated them like they were treasured, precious, prized pets. That still needed discipline but in turn, be good to them when they were good to their Master. Because Blaine saw more of his mother than his father, seeing as his father worked much more than his mom, Blaine adopted a similar mindset to her.

So when Blaine was told he was getting a slave at the young age of twelve years old, it filled him with joy. He wanted to be a good Master! Love and dote on his new pet! Even though technically he wouldn't be the slaves legal Master. Not yet. Not until he turned twenty-one. Until that happened though, it was close enough.

And he wanted a boy. He'd adamantly told his parents a boy. Not because of anything sexual, though by that age he knew slaves could be used for that, and his own sexuality was beginning to make itself apparent, no, no, it was because he wanted a playmate. An obedient playmate who would do everything he said, but a playmate none the less! Someone to run around and play games with, who would let him win every time. Someone to stay up late and talk to with. Someone to do _boy_ stuff with.

So he got Jeremiah. Oh, Blaine just thought he was just. . . So awesome! Blaine had loved him right away. Like a child would love a new puppy.

However, even at his young age he could recognize Jeremiah was nice to look at. Blonde curls, that Blaine ended up making Jeremiah grow out so Blaine could play with them, though he made the slave keep his hair above his shoulders, not allowing it too long. Pretty blue eyes Blaine liked to stare at. Smooth skin, that had been waxed before Blaine got him and Blaine had the slave continue with that trend. He liked it. In fact, he kept Jeremiah very clean and well maintained. Or, had the slave make sure to do so. Because the older he got, the more he realized, his play-toy, which he'd grown to call him instead of a playmate, was extremely attractive. Blaine thought of him in a whole new way. And with his hormones going haywire, he was glad to have Jeremiah to _play_ with in all new ways. Even if he never thought of it as true sex. Making love. He was told it wasn't and Blaine was detached enough from the slave to know that. Oh yes, of course Blaine knew after he'd used his slave it meant he wasn't a virgin anymore by all physical technicalities, but by societies view, he could say he was. Not until sex with a Person.

By now, that had happened. But it was still nice to have a toy.

Blaine wandered into his living room, sinking down into the loveseat with a head sigh, curling his legs up on the sofa with him after toeing off his shoes. He peered over at the empty seat beside him and felt his chest tighten, a lump growing in his throat. Feeling so alone.

He'd never imagined his weekend trip with his boyfriend would end in rejection. When Kurt had said those words, _I can't see you anymore_, the only reason Blaine didn't lose it was because of the utter shock. He just didn't understand. He would give Kurt space if he said he needed it, which he obviously did need, but what had triggered a break up?

Blaine of course blamed himself. For not being able to control himself with his slave. That must have been it. Blaine hadn't seen Kurt show any signs of uncertainty before that. What was he _thinking_? Of course Kurt would get mad! Blaine knew how his now ex-boyfriend felt about sexual things, how meaningful they were to Kurt. That was why Blaine hadn't pressured him at all. Been a perfect gentleman when things started to get heated between them. So _why_ would he let his slave suck him off in the bathroom while Kurt was just outside the door?

Blaine shook his head, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He was stuck in a bit of denial. Convinced Kurt had just freaked out over the thing he called cheating. That was all. He'd come around. And they'd date again. Eventually.

For now. . . He was alone again. Rejected. Pushed away. It just never got any easier.

"Your clothes are in the wash and I've set your bathroom back up accordingly, Master." Jeremiah's warm, submissive voice floated into the room. "I've also turned your bed down for you."

Blaine slowly lowered his hand, gazing at his slave. ". . .Miah, it's the middle of the afternoon."

"You looked tired, Master. Forgive me for speaking boldly but I thought you might need a nap."

"Well." Blaine shrugged, looking away. Then found a smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you. I appreciate that. You're right, I am pretty tired. The weekend didn't exactly go as planned."

"I'm sorry, Master. . ." Jeremiah spoke timidly, backing up a single step, like he was at fault. In a way, Blaine did blame him to some degree, so Jeremiah's reaction was rightfully so in his mind.

"Speaking of," Blaine raised his eyebrows, "I believe we still need to take care of something."

Jeremiah stepped forward again and dropped to his knees in front of the small couch, bowing his head for Blaine, just barely keeping his forehead from touching the furniture. "Is your prior arrangement what you wish, Master, or shall I go prepare for punishment?"

Blaine slowly grinned.

"Convince me."

Jeremiah inhaled suddenly but he didn't even hesitate, leaning himself up and slipping his hands under the sweater Blaine was wearing, carefully nudging it up and off of his Master before laying it on the arm of the couch neatly. Followed by nimbly unbuttoning the under shirt, leaning his head forward to kiss at the skin as he exposed it all the way down to his Master's belly. It made Blaine shiver, looking down at the slave with half hooded eyes. After years of experience, Jeremiah knew just what his Master liked. How to push his buttons. Which he did now, shoving the shirt off Blaine's shoulders, out of the way, so he could slip his lips over to one of Blaine's hardening nipples. Blaine's eyelids fluttered and he tipped his head back as he got a couple soft kisses from his slave over one of those nipples. Only for Jeremiah to lock his teeth onto the flesh suddenly, pulling and biting enough that the licks following would feel soothing. Blaine curled his fingers into that hair, a nice firm grip so he could pull on the curls when teeth came into play, gasping. Which was only good. Blaine loved it. He had rather sensitive nipples, so the following licks after the assault made him tremble, hands curled deep in Jeremiah's hair as he arched his chest out into the attention his slave was giving him.

Blaine indulged himself in this for a few minutes, Jeremiah switching to his other pec to give his other nipple equal consideration, until Blaine was quivering with pleasure, heat pooling in his groin.

"That's a good boy. . Mmmh. . ." Blaine stroked his hand through Jeremiah's hair only to pull the slave's head back. "Up." Jeremiah stood. Blaine smiled and moved his legs so he could sit up right on the couch, looking his slave over. "Get your shirt off for me."

Jeremiah was quick, pulling off the nice shirt that Blaine had given him, placing it aside as well, but on the floor instead of with his Master's clothes.

"Good." Blaine told him. Praise was important. Slaves ate it up. Especially Jeremiah, who had been known to get a little too excited when Blaine would give his approval. Even for things Blaine said to him almost every day, like telling him how good a meal smelled or even just saying good morning. It could be rather adorable.

The man scooted forward on the couch to lift his hands, laying his fingertips on the skin of his slave's sides and brushed them up and down. He peered at the dark marks on his slave, bruises left behind by Kurt's slave's large, powerful hands. What a brute, doing this to poor Jeremiah. It didn't matter what Jeremiah had said, David was not allowed to touch him. Slaves can not attack another Persons slave. Not for words. Blaine supposed he should feel lucky that all Jeremiah ended up with was bruises. David could have easily injured the smaller, frailer frame of Jeremiah's if he wanted to. Even if he didn't want to. Kurt had pointed out David didn't know his own strength. That did nothing to settle Blaine's nerves. He'd always been concerned that David would hurt Kurt. Seeing the big slave practically on top of his own had only made him worry more.

He pressed his hands against the marks until he felt a tremble pass through Jeremiah's body. That prompted Blaine to lean in, kissing and giving short bites and nibbles to that soft belly, making a low noise in his chest.

"M-Master. . .?"

"Don't get excited, Miah. You're still being punished." Blaine smiled against that warm skin, looking up at him through his eyelashes. "Because this," He snuck a hand between Jeremiah's legs and grabbed hold of him firmly, able to feel the metal chastity device under the cloth of his pants. He gave a squeeze and a small jostle, pulling a squeak from his slave. ". . .Isn't coming off today."

"Y-yes. . Yes, Master." Jeremiah nodded.

Blaine _could_ take the metal off of his slave's dick if he wanted. There was a lock. Blaine had the key. He'd taken it off a number of times while he used his slave for pleasure. If Jeremiah earned it. It was a reward to be brought to an orgasm. He'd had that cage on his slave's genitals ever since Blaine could remember. Though it wasn't till he was a few years older that he had been informed he needed to regulate his slave's orgasms for health reasons. And if for whatever reason the chastity device was to not come off for a long period of time, Blaine had to milk the slave's prostate. At first he'd thought it a bit of a chore, at the idea of having to do it. He almost made Jeremiah do it to himself, especially when he found out what he had to do exactly.

Though, he'd quickly learned it could be quiet fun.

"Ahhh-!" Jeremiah writhed, completely naked, save for the collar snug around his neck, in Blaine's grasp, pushed to a wall, hands scrambling for a hold. Blaine had two lubricated fingers up his slaves tight ass and had found that sweet spot, rubbing it over and over, ruthlessly. At the same time, he bit at Jeremiah's shoulder, letting out hot breaths against the skin, other hand rolling a nipple between two fingers. Pressing his own nude body to the taller one. Getting the slave going while at the same time Jeremiah could do absolutely nothing about it. Not with his cock being held in place the way it was, the metal locked around his dick and balls keeping it from being able to rise.

"What's the matter?" Blaine spoke in a sappy, low voice as he released his teeth from the skin, pleased with the little bruise he'd left behind. "Want this off?" Blaine dropped his hand to the slave's forced soft cock, pulling at it a little, thumb brushing against one of the metal bars. It was slicked, a milky fluid leaking out of Jeremiah that Blaine just spread around. The pre-come would need to be cleaned but Jeremiah was meticulous about keeping all of himself clean, so Blaine wasn't concerned.

"N-Nnhnnn. No." Jeremiah finally got out as Blaine pressed his fingers down again, still deep inside him while at the same moment giving a squeeze around Jeremiah's testicles. "I don't. . D-deserve it. Punish me, Master Blaine."

Master Blaine. It made Blaine smile. Jeremiah had called him that when Blaine still lived with his parents. His mother and father were Mistress and Master. Then there was young Master Blaine.

Blaine scraped a nail against Jeremiah's insides, a rather high pitched noise escaping the slave. Blaine adored it. Though, he always had to wonder how many sounds the slave made were faked. Jeremiah had discovered that his moans and gasps and shrieks had turned his Master on. So of course, he was as loud and noisy as he could possibly be, just for his Master. And the fact Blaine couldn't pick out what sounds were faked and which were genuine, Jeremiah either just completely let himself go in these situations, or was a damn good little actor.

"That's right you don't deserve it. Do you know why, Jeremiah?" Blaine breathed into the slave's ear.

"Because I am a bad slave, Master."

Blaine paused, balking. "No, no, Miah." Blaine leaned against Jeremiah's neck, nuzzling, removing his hand from the slave's flaccid dick to hold his hip instead. "You're not a bad slave. You could never be a bad slave for me. . ."

"I shamed you, Master, with the words I said about Mister Hummel." Jeremiah choked out, leaning his head heavily against the wall with a thunk.

"Yes. And that was wrong of you," Blaine agreed, pushing his two fingers apart to stretch that tight muscle, Jeremiah pushing his ass out more, submissively offering himself. Blaine smiled and kissed the slave's shoulder. "I know you're a good boy. Not a bad slave. You just made a mistake that you don't do again, will you? No more of this bad behavior?"

"No more, Master. I'll be good." Jeremiah nodded.

"You'll hold your tongue?" Blaine removed his hand and grabbed the massage oil he'd set near them, pouring it onto his hand so he could stroke himself, getting himself nice and slick. He'd taken Jeremiah dry before, it was the most pleasant experience for himself. Jeremiah had accepted it fine but Blaine hadn't. Lube made it feel better, in Blaine's opinion.

"Yes, Master."

"And you'll accept your punishment?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good boy. . ."

Blaine discarded the bottle and shoved Jeremiah up to the wall, knocking the air out of him as Blaine rubbed his hard cock between Jeremiah's cheeks. The body was placid under him, forehead to the wall, hands flat to it as well, up out of the way while Blaine held onto Jeremiah's bruised sides. The only sign at all Jeremiah gave was a whimper, a needy noise, arching himself just enough to press his bottom back against his Master.

Really, he was a good slave.

Blaine pressed inside his toy seconds later, slipping inside of him half way before pulling back again and rocking forward. Then repeated this, getting a little deeper with each roll of his hips. He listened to Jeremiah gasp every time Blaine would push in and whine every time Blaine would pull out.

Blaine loved holding his slave and fucking him like this. Dominant, pinning the slave to a surface, but moving himself so slow. Drawing out his motions and therefore the noises from Jeremiah.

Not that fast and hard sex wasn't fun too. Plenty of times Blaine would get way too worked up and all but attack Jeremiah. Hell, Blaine even liked to make Jeremiah _top_ sometimes. Blaine had been a teenager the first time it happened, prior to then only letting Jeremiah finger him as he got his cock sucked because of his curiosity as to how it felt. It wasn't something he could keep off his mind forever though. Especially when he'd free Jeremiah's penis and see it fully erect. It made Blaine want to just climb on top of him and ride him until neither of them could handle it anymore.

And that's just what had happened.

Granted, it also had included Blaine shoving the slave down, tying Jeremiah's hands together with a leash that was hooked to his collar to keep him from moving his hands at all. And held one of his nice riding crops in his own hand, slapping the slave's chest and legs when Jeremiah would try to thrust upward. Not really because Jeremiah wasn't allowed to. Because it was _fun. _Jeremiah got off on it too, Blaine couldn't forget those screams of pleasure. Despite the red welts that covered Jeremiah by the time they were finished, it had definitely been far from a punishment.

From there it had evolved to other positions. On his back so that Blaine was able to look up at the slave while he moved, for example. Blaine liked that one. He liked the feeling of someone being over him. Giving him so much pleasure. His sole purpose at that moment to make his Master come. Blaine even got on his hands and knees finally, while Jeremiah took him from behind, as his Master shouted out instructions and kept the slave in his rightful place. Blaine had very quickly learned, just because Jeremiah was inside him or on top of him, didn't give him dominance. Blaine was always the one in control. Always.

Tonight though, switching positions would mean releasing Jeremiah from his cock cage and he just wasn't going to have that.

Blaine started speeding up, his hips hitting Jeremiah's backside hard enough there was a muffled smacking sound with every thrust. His fingers dug hard into the slave's sharp hip bones, driving himself in, moaning at the cries Jeremiah released. Jeremiah was also pressing back however, his legs spreading as much as he could without falling down into an ungraceful splits. Blaine was smiling at this, slowing down abruptly after a couple minutes of intensity, rubbing his hands up then back down Jeremiah's curved back.

"Having fun, Miah?" He said softly, his voice breathless as he steadied himself.

"Yes. . . Yes Master. Always love when you play with me," Jeremiah answered, whining in his throat.

Play. Blaine had started calling it that in his teenage years. Would look at his slave and say 'Wanna play?' or 'Let's play for a while.' or 'I want to play with you, Jeremiah.' Something along those lines. It'd only taken once for Jeremiah to catch onto what he meant, the next time seemingly prepared and eager. And from then on, that was the association. It wasn't that Blaine thought, _I'm going to have sex with my slave. _No. He was _playing_ with his slave. The, at the time, childish term to keep from admitting to himself that he was in fact, fucking his slave. He knew that _now_. How could he deny it? He wasn't ashamed of it either, not really. He disliked talking about it with anyone other than his slave however. It was just inappropriate conversation. It would be like, in Blaine's mind, talking about his masturbation habits. Not something for polite conversation. Besides, his parents had told him, what someone does with their slave is their business and no one else's. So he was no longer uncomfortable to admit to himself he had sex with his slave. Jeremiah still said the term _play_ anyway and Blaine continued to use it as well. It was their thing.

Consistency with a slave was just as important as praise after all.

"I know you do. You're so good," Blaine gave a sharp pat on one of Jeremiah's ass cheeks, pleased with how the body arched into it. "Let's move over to the bed though, shall we?"

"Yes, Master. . ." Jeremiah nodded, but didn't move, even as Blaine removed himself from the slave in favor of going to the bed. Instead he waited for his Master go first, then turned towards him, his head down. "What do you wish of me?"

Blaine rolled onto his back after reaching over to grab one of his crops from a side table. A red one with a black ends, toying with it as he watched Jeremiah, eyes trailing over that body. "Mmmh. ." Blaine resisted touching himself just while looking, licking his lips. He saw Jeremiah eying that crop. "Ride me."

"Yes, sir." Jeremiah came over eagerly, kneeling himself on the bed followed by straddling Blaine's hips.

This wasn't a first either. Blaine liked watching Jeremiah bounce on him, crying out, with or without that chastity device confining the slave. Though he liked tying Jeremiah up often when it was like this.

Well. He liked tying Jeremiah up in general, honestly.

Call it a fetish.

Most of the time it was just Jeremiah's hands bound together. But Blaine had tied Jeremiah's arms to his own torso a few times, bounded his feet, gagged him with a thick strip of cloth or rope then tied Jeremiah's hands behind his head with the ends of it. Blaine even liked to leave Jeremiah all tied up like that long after the playing was over. The slave would obediently stay right where he was, though Blaine had caught him on a number of occasions wriggling around where ever he got left and it usually resulted in round two.

Jeremiah wasn't bound today though, reaching back to hold his Master's cock in place as he lowered himself. Blaine moaned, pushing his hips up as soon as the head of his dick slipped past the first ring of muscle. Jeremiah didn't stop though, he kept lowering himself down until he was fully seated on his Master, letting out a few shallow breaths, his skin reddened against his cheeks.

Blaine struck the crop down suddenly against Jeremiah's bare hip, the slave jerking and gasping loudly. But it got the desired effect. He didn't raise up at first, he just rolled his hips, practically grinding himself against Blaine.

_Such_ a good slave.

"Oh. . .Oh my God. . " Blaine tipped his head back.

"Masteeeer!" Jeremiah whined, lifting his hips this time then dropping back down, where he paused, shivering.

Blaine slapped the crop down again, "I didn't say stop. Faster!"

Jeremiah obeyed, pushing himself up then dropping down quicker, soft little 'oh's escaping him. Blaine hit him again however, the end of the riding crop hitting Jeremiah's backside with a loud slap. The slave jerked just barely, then continued, trying to speed up even more for his Master. But Blaine kept on hitting him. Over and over like a jockey pushing his horse to take the lead. Not to make him go faster, Jeremiah was doing a fine job of that, trying so hard he was red in the face and sweat was beading all over his body. He did it because of the noises Jeremiah made every time that crop hit him, something suddenly louder than all the rest, be it a moan or just a staccato yelp. Those noises drove Blaine absolutely crazy, his hips thrusting up to meet the others until he couldn't take it anymore. He needed to move. Really move. He groaned, sounding almost frustrated, and threw the crop aside before sitting up and roughly shoving his slave down onto the bed without pulling out of that tight, slick hole.

"Oh please. . Please please please- Ah!" Jeremiah was whining again, only cut off when Blaine started thrusting hard and fast into the lithe body. Blaine didn't know exactly what the slave was begging for. Not like Jeremiah was going to be able to get a climax out of this, if anything Blaine assumed the way he was rolling his hips, probably striking that prostate over and over again, from the way Jeremiah was moaning, it would just be torture. Maybe that was it, Jeremiah begging for the chastity device to come of. . But, unlikely, Jeremiah almost never asked for that. Not anymore. Not after he learned that asking for it off would essentially guarantee that Blaine would _not_ remove it. It was more probable that Jeremiah was focused on his Master, like he should. Begging to be taken, to be used, to get his Master that awesome pleasure. Slaves got off on that. Even if he couldn't literally _get off. _

"Good. . S-so. . So good. . " Blaine moaned, pressing his face against Jeremiah's neck, his thrusts going deeper. Thanks to Jeremiah who had lifted his legs up in a rather acrobatic way, not using his arms since he'd crossed them above his head, fingers clenched into a pillow. Blaine could feel heels digging into the small of his back however, crossed around Blaine's waist.

As his orgasm was building, Blaine's movements got erratic and sloppy the longer it went on, his body desperate for that release. Which Jeremiah apparently noticed because his muscles suddenly squeezed around his Master's cock, making Blaine shout, higher pitched than all his other sounds, body trembling as he gave a sharp thrust into the slave, who practically squealed when his Master came inside him.

The following few minutes after sex Blaine loved. He tried to deny it to himself, but. . Laying against a warm, sweat slicked body, catching his breath, able to relax because long fingered hands were gently rubbing against his back and neck, even into his hair. It was like he could pretend for a few minutes. Pretend he was laying here with a lover and not a slave. He fantasized during his play with Jeremiah, sometimes, about someone else, recently mostly Kurt. But it was the aftermath that he liked to imagine the most. Blaine was a romantic. When it came to real People, he wanted romance. He wanted to cuddle and kiss and whisper sweet nothings until they were both in a fit of silly giggles. He was certain Jeremiah would do those things for him but Blaine just couldn't bring himself to allow it. A number of times he'd ordered Jeremiah to hold him, or to let Blaine wrap his arms around the slave when he was having a hard time. But not beyond that. Never beyond that. Blaine had remind himself the body he was laying on, was just that. A body.

Blaine would never deny that Jeremiah could feel. He knew his slave. Knew what he liked to do, knew his favorite foods to prepare, knew what kind of music he liked his Master to sing, knew his favorite color, knew how to make the slave smile and lighten up. In the end of all of that, however, Jeremiah was still a slave. And he would always be a slave. Nothing else. Blaine would keep to do the jobs of a slave. Be a companion, a pet, a toy, a friend-

Blaine frowned as that thought passed through his mind and pulled away suddenly, rolling over to face away from Jeremiah. But he didn't give the slave an order to leave either, so he could feel that body still laying next to him.

Then suddenly pressed up against him. To his back.

"Jeremiah. . ." Blaine warned, about to remind the slave he hadn't given permission for that.

"Don't cry, Master. Please?" Jeremiah spoke just barely above a whisper.

"I'm not-" Blaine stopped. He blinked a few times before realizing he _was_ crying. He turned his head, hiding it against the pillow and used to brush away tears.

"Why are you crying? Did I do poorly, Master? I'm sorry." Jeremiah tacked on the apology before ever getting an answer, sounding only sincere in it. It almost made Blaine laugh to think the slave was concerned he was so bad that it brought his Master to tears.

"No, you were wonderful, Miah." Blaine sighed. "I just. . I don't know. I really wanted things to work out with Kurt and I. Can't stop thinking about that."

A silence followed for roughly thirty seconds.

"You will find better, Master. Mister Hummel didn't know what he had. He doesn't deserve you."

"Watch it, Jeremiah, that's what got you into trouble in the first place," Blaine chided, but he felt a smile tug on his lips.

"I'm sorry, Master. I don't mean to speak ill of your friend." Jeremiah said. No, he _muttered._

Blaine didn't answer to that, shaking his head a little as he reached back to grab one of Jeremiah's wrists and pull it over his side, making the slave hold him. Which Jeremiah did immediately, not needing words, just pressed up to his Master and locked his arms around the man. Blaine even swore he heard the slave make a happy sound in a breath behind him.

He let it go.

"I know it's not much, Master, but," Jeremiah laid his head against Blaine's shoulder, "you will always have me."

Blaine clenched his eyes shut, feeling that lump grow in his throat, the overwhelming need to break into tears spreading over him. He took a deep breath. He was the Master, he was not going to let his slave make him cry with those words.

"T-Thank you, Jeremiah. You're a good boy. I couldn't have asked for a better slave," Blaine sighed out, rather sweetly. Meaning what he said.

"I'm lucky to be in your service, Master." Blaine could practically hear the smile in Jeremiah's voice. "Shall I go prepare a bath for you, Master?"

"In a while, Miah. . Let's. . Let's just stay like this for a few more minutes." Blaine allowed himself a moment of softness. He needed this.

"Yes, sir." Jeremiah answered gently, giving his Master a gentle squeeze with his arms.

Another long silence followed, Blaine even feeling like he might fall asleep at any second. Which he had never done while his slave was still in bed with him. He always sent Jeremiah away before that would happen. Jeremiah was not supposed to sleep in his Master's bed. Which, Jeremiah knew, and was why Blaine could feel the slave fidgeting behind him.

"Is there anything you wish of me, Master?" Jeremiah asked, his voice soft like he was afraid Blaine had fallen asleep.

"Not right now," Blaine shook his head. Then paused. He needed to be consistent with his slave. Not telling him what to do might make Jeremiah panic. Wouldn't be the first time. ". . .Why don't you go clean yourself up then get me some fresh clothes. Pajamas are in order for the rest of the day, I think."

"Yes, Master."

"Thank you, Jeremiah." Blaine yawned as those arms untangled themselves from around him. But he could feel the slave lingering on the bed. Could almost feel the eyes on him, though Blaine didn't look up.

". . .I love you, Master."

Blaine was silent, listening to his slave get out of bed and leave the room. Jeremiah often said that, though it wasn't usually after sexual activities. It was usually in a random moment, actually. Like at dinner or when Blaine would offer a little extra praise. Blaine decided it was because of the tears, Jeremiah felt compelled to let his Master know someone cared about him. Which. . Truly was nice. Even from a slave.

Once he was gone, Blaine curled himself up, drawing his knees up as he wrapped his arms around a large pillow before saying quietly to the empty room:

"Love you too, Miah."


End file.
